Simplicity
by thegirlwithmanynames
Summary: The Holy Roman Empire doesn't know what to expect when Italy asks him to meet her out in a field, but he knows that he'd wait forever for her if given the chance.


To be quite honest, he had no idea what was going on.

He drew his cape closer to him, shivering slightly as the breeze blew by. Wind coming off the mountains was always much colder than it was elsewhere. But he didn't really mind. He would wait out here forever if that were what it would take. No, not only forever. Forever wasn't possibly long enough.

Either way, Italy had told him to meet her here, and she was late.

If he thought about it, it was typical for her to be late. She had probably taken her early afternoon nap and slacked off on her cleaning, and Austria would not have taken that very well. He was probably making her stay later than she had planned so that she could finish dusting his piano for what was likely the umpteenth time that day. He felt a surge of irritation at Austria sweep over him. How _dare_ he keep poor Italy locked up cleaning inside when she wanted to be free and have fun? …he supposed it _was_ practical. That's what you did when you had a colony, right? They had to work for you, do something useful. Still, he'd much rather become his own, standalone nation without any city-states to argue with him, and take Italy on as _his_ colony, because then he'd treat her right. He didn't know much how to deal with girls, but he'd already made a mental note to read up on it. There must be a book published somewhere that took on the subject of how to deal with being in love with Italians, right?

_Love_. Such a strong word, but he knew this was what it must be. This strange embarrassment every time she came near him, this stumbling over his words and forgetting his dignity when she smiled at him…there could be no other explanation. Hungary herself had told him so. And she, having been in love – as she testified to him one night while putting him to sleep – would know about it. He was in love with Italy. And she still had no idea about it. Perhaps today would be the day that he would tell her…when she finally came to see him, that is.

He turned away from the house for a moment to look out over the landscape before him. It was beautiful here, despite the light wind and the cold. The mountains and the swaying grass calmed him; it was simple and natural, erased political and personal worries. He made another mental note to remind himself to come sit out here more often. It was relaxing. God knew he needed to be relaxed more often, what with everything that was going on in his life. The sun was just starting to shine with a slight orange tint, indicating that it was going to set soon, when he heard a call from behind him.

"Holy Rome? Holy Rome!"

He whirled around at the sound of the exhilarated, tiny voice, his cape whipping up to snap at the bare skin of the back of his hand and his cheeks turning a violent shade of red.

She was finally here.

Or, more precisely, not here quite yet, but getting here. Her small hands were clutching a black case that was bouncing up and down as she ran towards him, and after getting over the happiness he felt taking over him at the sight of her, his first thought was that the bouncing couldn't be good for whatever was in that case. But it didn't matter, because she was here with him, and that was all he ever needed.

"Holy Rome? Are you okay?"

He snapped out of it at the sound of her voice, and he nodded sharply once, not looking at her. This was probably not good for the furthering of a possible relationship. Where was that book on Italians when he needed one?

"Oh, all right! I'm glad you're okay, ve~ now we can finally talk! I'm really sorry I was late, I was just busy back at the house trying to – "

"It's okay," he answered, embarrassed and finally turning to look at her. His theory had turned out to be right after all; Austria had kept her behind. "You're here now."

"Oh – oh, yes! I'm here, and you're here too, Holy Rome, isn't that nice? That's really nice! Thank you for coming, _grazie mille_!"

If she kept speaking so happily like this, he was going to erupt. He already felt his cheeks warming hot as lava.

"…what did you call me here for, Italy?" he asked curtly, and then damned himself for the unfriendly tone. He was probably scaring her! Why couldn't he answer properly? He immediately corrected himself, adding "I-I mean, what is the purpose of meeting here?"

"Here? I wanted to be alone, just you and me, Holy Rome, because I wanted to show you something! Oh – oh, I forgot, I have to show you something! _Aspetta_, how do I open this again, um…" There were only quiet murmurs coming from her now as she struggled with the locks on the case, and he stood there like a statue, wondering what to do. She wanted to be _alone_ with him? What did that _mean_?

"There!" He was distracted from his thoughts when she managed to unlock the clasps and open the case, revealing…a violin? Oh, god, he was right. All that bouncing couldn't have been safe for that poor violin. Austria would have thrown a fit should he have seen Italy running with it, he was certain. But the violin did not look too damaged – in fact, it looked pristine, the dark wood glistening in the rays of the sunlight. He was mesmerized by the way the sun seemed to play around with the colour of the violin, making it look a dark red instead of the brown he knew it must have been, and though he knew he was no artist, he wished he could capture the subtlety of what he was seeing in a painting. He was only distracted when he saw Italy's small hands grasp the neck and body and pull it up, resting her chin on the small pad and positioning her bow on the strings. He watched silently, open-mouthed and gaping, as she made sure her fingers were on the right strings and drew the bow across the violin for the first time.

The song she played was simple, and not one he recognized. It did not sound baroque or typical of the artists that were composing currently. He furrowed his brow as he listened, trying to figure it out, but he soon gave up in favour of closing his eyes and letting the simple, lilting melody take him to a world where nothing existed except himself, Italy, and the music, and there were no worries and no wars and just _them._

He was disappointed when the music ended, although the last chord was major. When he opened his eyes, he saw her staring back at him, smile as bright as the sun. Her violin had been placed carefully back in its case already.

"Did you like it, Holy Rome? Was it good? Did I make mistakes? I'm sorry if I made mistakes, I was trying really hard not to!"

"…no," he answered, at a loss for words. She had not made any mistakes. _Could_ she even make mistakes? She was flawless.

"You didn't like it?" Her lower lip trembled almost unnoticeably, but he saw it, and he saw her eyes dim slightly – no longer the sun, but perhaps the moon. He hurried to correct himself.

"N-no – I mean, yes, I liked it – but no, no, no mistakes – it was very good, Italy!" he stammered and finally almost shouted at her, and she cowered at his loud voice. He felt terrible for not being able to express himself properly, but soon enough she straightened again and the smile reappeared on her face.

"…you liked it, Holy Rome? Really? You really did? _Signore_ Austria and I wrote it for you, you know~ I'm not good at composing by myself yet, and I can't really play the violin very good on my own, but I wanted to play something for you, and _Signore_ Austria helped me write it and practice it!"

The sense of irritation he had previously felt towards Austria abruptly disappeared, replaced by a wave of intense gratitude. He must remind himself to thank the man later.

"…for me?" he asked, and she nodded excitedly.

"For you, Holy Rome! I'm so glad you liked it! _Grazie_!" she exclaimed, and threw herself at him, embracing him in a tight hug. He stiffened and reddened like a beet in response, but after a few short seconds had gone by, he hesitantly raised his arms and held her in return.

And in that moment, it didn't matter that in a few short weeks, he would be headed off to war. It didn't matter that Italy refused to become part of the Holy Roman Empire with him. It didn't matter that it was getting dark, and they should get back to the house. All that mattered was that they were here, holding each other, together in the quietest of ways, simple as the melody she'd played for him.


End file.
